


You’re Not Him

by deadlymilkovich



Category: The Maze Runner (Movies)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Gay Male Character, I Rewrote This Scene Because It Fits Better This Way, M/M, Newt (Maze Runner) Lives, Partying, Scene Gone Wrong
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-09
Updated: 2020-02-09
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:22:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22622482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deadlymilkovich/pseuds/deadlymilkovich
Summary: Instead of black hair, Thomas was met with dirty blonde, and a male face with slender features. Newt.‘Newt Newt Newt Newt’rings in Thomas’s head, and he and pulls away, blinking until the image went back to Brenda. She looked confused, and he took a heavy breath, shaking his head.“You’re not him.”A rewrite of the crank party scene from the Scorch Trials movie, I switched Newt and Teresa’s places in these scenes essentially except for the flashback of Thomas getting taken away to the maze
Relationships: Newt/Thomas (Maze Runner)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 102





	You’re Not Him

Thomas and Brenda has made their way into Zone A, searching high and low for who Brenda believed was Marcus. After a while, they’d reached a building that boomer with music and people, flags with holes in them hanging off the balcony and the strong smell of booze floated from the open windows. Thomas scrunched his nose in disgust but Brenda just ignored it. It smelled like Gally’s old drink in the glade to Thomas, which wasn’t something he enjoyed all that much.

Brenda pushes through a crowd while he followed behind, and soon they stood outside a big wooden door. People sat outside in chairs or on the cold ground, all dressed obscenely to Thomas. It was all so new, the smells, the noises, things he’d never really experienced in the glade or in his past memories. It was overwhelming almost.

Brenda has tapped Thomas chest and brought his attention back to her, and he felt a hand curl around his neck softly, an older blood woman coming into his peripheral vision. 

“You here for the party?” She asks, and Brenda turns to her, eyes hard from annoyance.

“No, we’re looking for Marcus,” She says, hands on her hips. “This is his place, isn’t it?”

“This is my place.” A man says, Brenda and Thomas turning to face a man in a purple velvet suit, scraggly blonde with smudged makeup.

They both walked up to him, the blondes hand not leaving its place on Thomas’s neck. It made him feel restrained, and the hold soon became more than uncomfortable when she pressed herself against his side.

Brenda did most of the talking, asking about Marcus and if the man had seen Thomas’s friends and Jorge come through. The man seemed intoxicated, or high, hands flying around and eyes darting between the blonde, Thomas and Brenda as she spoke. Thomas asked him again if he’d seen a group of people come through, and the man sighed, rubbing his eyes.

“You know, they might be inside,” His voice is heavy, Thomas notices. The man reaches inside his suit pocket and pulls out a bottle of bright green liquid, holding it out for Thomas and Brenda. “Here. Drink this.

“What is it?” Thomas asks, staring down at the bottle. Brenda looks up at him with drawn eyebrows, suspicious of the man in front of them.

“It’s the price of admission.”

The shorter of the duos eyes went wide, and the lady close to Thomas ran her finger up his ear, making him move his head away. The man started to look agitated, and he shook the bottle a little. Neither took it from him.

“Drink it!” He shouts, and Brenda snatches it, chugging down some of the liquid before pulling off and handing it back, coughing at the taste. The purple man looks pleased with her, and directs the bottle to Thomas.

“Your turn.”

Thomas takes the bottle, and starts to take a small sip, but a hand from the lady tilts it back more, forcing two mouthfuls of the foul liquid down his throat. He practically throws up when she takes the bottle out of his mouth, capping it and cradling it to her chest. He wipes his mouth, and Brenda pats his side in sympathy, before the man in purple places a hand on their backs and directs them towards the door.

“You two enjoy the party.” He says, tossing them in, and Thomas almost hits a girl walking by, hearing the doors close behind he and his friend. Brenda flipped off the wood, and she regained her composure. Thomas looked around, and suddenly he felt dizzy.

“Maybe we should split up. See if we can find the others?” Brenda asks, but Thomas can barely hear her, and he squints as his vision blurs. She places a hand onto his bicep, and he turns. “Hey. Don't drink anything else.”

He nods, even though he can’t understand her, and she takes off, weaving through the crowd. Thomas blinks slow, eyes and body heavy as he takes off his jacket, feeling too hot to wear it now in the crowded room. He stumbled down steps, entering into the sea of bodies, skin feeling a little too tight and sensitive when multiple fabrics touch him, scratchy, silky, fuzzy.

He walks around, trying his best to catch faces and clothes, anything that would be his friends. He walked up to a small circle of people, and by craning his neck, he could see a man punching a crank, bloody knuckles and laughter crowding his senses. The attacker backs off, grabbing something off to the side and raising it. Thomas identifies it as a hand gun, and he looks down at the crank. For a moment, the monster looks familiar, bare cheeks and eyes being all too familiar in his haze. When the fighter points it’s gun at the crank, and fires, a name registers in Thomas’s mind, and it makes him flinch hard, shaking in fear. _Alby._

“That was fun!” The purple man yells, and Thomas jumps, the room swaying heavily as he does.

“What?” The man laughs at him, waving a hand in dismissal as Thomas’s eyes bug, hurting from the strain. He retreats back into the crowd, looking around again. He bumps into someone, and turns around to apologize, but he’s met with Brendas equally drugged out face.

“Brenda?” He asks, hands coming to rest at his sides in calm bliss, happy he knew someone at least. A familiar face. An alive face.

“They’re not here.” She says, and her voice echos in his head, her head lolling to the side. Thomas shakes his, regretting the action when he got dizzy again. 

“Let’s go, we have to keep looking.” He persists, trying to move past her, but she doesn’t budge.

“Why? We couldn't find the Right Arm anyway. Not without Marcus. Your friends are gone. It's over,” She says, arms coming to wrap around his neck. She sounds crazy to him, even in his inebriated state. It just wasn’t her to him. “It's just us now. Just try and relax, and let go.”

“How?” He asks, confused and shocked by her words. She smiles up at him.

“Like this.”

She pulls him down, lips locking together and kisses being pressed in a hasty manner. Thomas’s eyes closed in bliss, and he held her torso softly, until they broke apart.

Instead of black hair, Thomas was met with dirty blonde, and a male face with slender features. Newt. _‘Newt Newt Newt Newt’_ rings in Thomas’s head, and he and pulls away, blinking until the image went back to Brenda. She looked confused, and he took a heavy breath, shaking his head.

“You’re not him.” He mumbles, body trembling from the emotions whirring inside.

She laughs, smile falling quickly as she moves to leave, pushing past bodies as Thomas reaches out for her. He misses, and he feels guilt hit him like a truck, except so much stronger due to the drugs.

“Brenda!” He calls, looking around for her, pushing past bodies. “Brenda!”

He rushed to try and find her, body’s moving to slowly for his own, and he whipped his head around to try and spot her. The feeling of sickness rose in his stomach and he moved again, met with the man in purple as he gripped Thomas’s shoulders.

Thomas moves away, pushing hard into the crowd but being thrown off as the lady from before approached him, and he grew more panicked, heartbeat pounding in his ears.

He tried to run, slamming into another body and looking for a face to connect to it, instead hearing the loud voice of Winston in his head, and an image of the crank he had become flood around him. Thomas could feel tears in his eyes as he moved backwards, the sound of a scream behind him making his eyes follow.

Teresa was spitting black, her eyes the same color as the veins and scabs that littered her face.

“No!” Thomas fell in fear, crawling away from the image, tears falling down his face as he slithered between peoples legs.

He looked up to try and identify where he was, but the meaty fleshed face of a griever stared back, stinger raised high above his head. Thomas started to black out, fear covering his whole body as the room tilted angrily. His head hit the floor and the room went dark, but he heard a thud next to him as he passed out.

-

Neon lights flashed on Thomas’s skin as he walked, rushing past the data boards and into a dark sub space. He looked around, eyes landing on the brunette across the room. He rushed to stand in front of her, body on high alert.

“Hey, did anyone see you come here?” He asks, hands fidgeting at his side. Teresa shakes her head, confused by his behavior.

“No, what are you talking about?”

“We don't have a lot of time.” He explains, and Teresa places a hand in his shoulder, trying to comfort him.

“Thomas, what's wrong?”

“I just, I had to see you, I'm just trying to explain things before it-“ Thomas started, but a door opening made him stop. “Oh no.”

He grabbed Teresa and shifted her out of the way, hands trembling hard against her skin. She looked at him, shocked expression piercing his consciousness.

“Thomas?” She asks, and he breathes harder trying to control his emotions.

“Just listen to me, okay? Whatever they tell you about me, whatever they say, I just need you to know, I had to do it, okay?” He says, and Teresa’s eyes widen, and she steps back a bit.

“What did you do?”

“I can't keep watching them die.” He rasps, looking down for a moment, but a hand grips his shoulder hard, and he’s pulled back.

“Over here. Come on.” A guard yells, and sooner another hand is joined on Thomas’s other arm, and he’s starting to get dragged away from Teresa, his sister, his best friend.

“I'm sorry.” He says, and she looks so scared, he wants to hug her, comfort her. God, what had he done?

“Thomas!” She yelled.

-

“Thomas.”

He jerked away, fear pumping heavy in his body as a hand came to rest against his chest, settling him back down.

Thomas looked around, bright light hitting his eyes as he observed the big fancy drapes they shown through, hung over some big fancy windows, and that familiar, comforting dirty blonde hair hanging in front of his eyes. Newt.

“Hey, Tommy you’re okay. You gave me a hell of a fright.” Newt says, hand curling around Thomas’s shirt, and Thomas smiles, taking a deep breathe and letting himself relax. Newt rubs small circles into Thomas’s chest with his thumb, and Minho takes a spot beside the British boy.

“Welcome back you ugly shank.” The runner chuckles, and Thomas rolls his eyes, sitting up and rubbing his eyes from exhaustion. Brenda glares daggers at him when Newts hand lands on his knee, and they share a look for a moment, before a loud punch lands beside Thomas’s head.

“Talk you son of a bitch!” Jorge yells, fist colliding with the purple mans face. Thomas stands up slowly, making his way over to Teresa and touching her shoulder softly. She smiles up at him.

“Seems like you had fun.” She laughs, and he shakes his head in disbelief. What the hell happened when he was out?

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading ! If I’ve made any mistakes in my writing please notify me so I can change it !
> 
> Constructive criticism is always appreciated


End file.
